Apartment 2B (20 page)

Frustrated with myself, I pull out my phone to call AAA, only to find that I have
no service. What the fuck? I look for Sidney. She’s trekking through the cemetery
at full speed towards God only knows what.

“Sidney! Come back!” Sprinting after her, I eventually catch up to her and hook her
tiny waist with one of my long arms. “You can’t go traipsing barefoot through the
cemetery at night.”

“Let go of me!”

“Where do you think you’re even going anyway? Huh? You’re going the opposite direction
from town.”

“I’m getting far away from you! Now let me go!”

Instead of letting her go, I spin her around and heave her over my shoulder. She kicks
and screams, but I don’t let go.

“I hate you, Lane!”

“Too damn bad. It isn’t safe. We’re going to sit in the truck where someone will find
us in the morning.”

By the time we reach the truck, she’s given up the fight. Opening my side, I push
her inside. She crawls to the other side away from me, laying her cheek on the glass.
Slamming the door shut behind me, I scoot closer to her.

Sidney, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to snap out of the trance you were in. Believe
me when I say I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

She looks over at me with the saddest look and my heart aches for her. “It wasn’t
a trance. It was real,” she whispers. Turning away from me, she looks back out the
window.

I rest my head on the steering wheel for what seems like ages before I hear her speak
again.

“Believe what you want. He helped me. He protected me. He kept me company. He slept
beside me. He saw me naked. He helped me orgasm. HE. LOVED. ME.”

Her words are all too fucking much. My brother is not a fucking ghost.

As we sit quietly for another long spell, I feel the temperature dropping a bit outside.
The inside of the cab is getting chilly. Sidney has her knees drawn to her chest,
tucked under her dress.

“Come here,” I order. She looks at me and shakes her head no. “You’re cold. I will
warm you up.”

“I don’t get cold. I take icy showers, remember?” As soon as she says it, she shivers.

“Liar. You just fucking shivered. Now get your ass over here.”

Defeated, she scoots close to me and I wrap an arm around her. “I don’t understand.
I never get cold.” Her pouty voice warms me.

“I think the more you drop your touching issues, the more your body comes back to
life.”

She seems to contemplate that answer.

Our hot breathing has managed to fog up the windows. When I look up at the windshield,
the breath is knocked out of me. Two sentences have me connecting everything.

Fix it, Pain. She’s worth it.

“Did I ever tell you the nickname Liam gave me?” I ask. She shakes her head no and
looks up at me. My mind momentarily drifts to a time long ago.

“You’re such a fucking pain,” he growls at me as he yanks a pillow over his head.

Ever since the accident on the football field, he’s been different. Going to school
is something he hates to do nowadays, and Mom leaves me the task of waking his grumpy
ass up.

“And you’re such a fucking asshole. Now get up, Liam. You’re worrying Mom and Dad.
But me, you’re just pissing me the fuck off,” I order.

He ignores me, so I rip the pillow from his grip and toss it into the hallway. After
that, it’s on. Liam is out of the bed in two seconds and tackles my ass to the floor.

“Get off of me, fucker,” I spit out at him as I try to gain my bearings to no avail.
Even though we’re twins, he’s always been slightly bigger and stronger.

His eyes suddenly sparkle as the Liam I know—my brother—returns. My heart is happy
because the distant, brooding Liam is gone momentarily. Since the accident, we never
see the real Liam anymore.

“I’ll get off of you if you say, ‘I’m Lane the Pain,’” he chuckles. He knows I hate
that fucking nickname he gave to me when we were kids.

“Fuck you! Get off of me.”

“Say it, Pain. Admit you’re Lane the Pain!” he laughs again.

I’m going nowhere with his heavy ass on top of me.

But to see him laughing again makes my heart thrum to life. Maybe he’ll come back
to us.

In an effort to keep the moment alive, I concede. “I’m Lane the Pain.”

He grins in true Liam style and slaps my chest before getting up. “Of course you are.”

“He thought I was a pain in the ass at times, so since pain rhymed with Lane, that
became my nickname.” I flick my glance toward the windshield, and she gasps when she
sees it. Running my fingers through her smooth hair, I mimic her words from earlier.
“He’s Patrick.”

“It makes sense now,” I tell her as I kiss the top of her head.

She shivers as I rub my palm up and down her arm. “It always made sense,” she whispers.

I feel another pang of guilt. I’ll never forgive myself for slapping her.

“The same message has been presented to me three times now. Once on the shower mirror
and once on the laptop. There was also a little poem on the laptop. I figured you
had somehow snuck in and done it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I stupidly assumed you might be unstable because of your past. You
take ice showers and were afraid to be touched until me. Of course I assumed the worse.
I’m an asshole and I can admit that.”

“And I can agree that you’re an asshole,” she teases although I know she’s upset with
me.

“Come here,” I order.

She straddles my lap willingly and puts her arms around my neck, nuzzling her face
in my hair. I hug her to me, trying without words to convey how sorry I am. After
a few minutes, she pulls away to look at me.

“Where did he go? If he had to leave me like he said, then why is he still hanging
around sending messages? It doesn’t make sense,” she says and furrows her brows. It
doesn’t make sense at all. I realize, though, that he wants us together. That much
is certain.

“I don’t know, babe.”

The sadness leaves her face as she stares at me. And in a forgiving move, she leans
in and softly kisses my lips. I try not to pressure her, so I let her kiss me at her
own pace while I stroke her back. Threading her fingers in my hair, she pulls me closer
to her as she kisses me roughly, biting my lip. I groan as I start to harden underneath
her. She feels it and grinds herself into me. My hands make their way to the zipper
on the back of her dress and slide it down. Dragging them back up, I slowly pull the
top of the dress off her shoulders and kiss her collarbone.

I let the dress fall the rest of the way to bare her breasts. I’m not sure I’ll ever
get used to her not wearing a bra or panties. It’s so fucking hot, and my dick agrees
as it struggles to escape my jeans. Leaning forward, I suck a nipple into my mouth.
She moans and grips my hair tighter. One of my hands slides across her belly and I
feel the ridges of her scars. It reminds me of the woman who hurt her. That, tonight,
I
hurt her. The guilt consumes me, and I pull away to study her.

She looks gorgeous in the throes of passion. When she realizes that I’ve stopped,
she gazes down at me, confused.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, out of breath.

“Sidney. I’m so fucking sorry for slapping you. I—”

Before I can finish, she slaps me hard across the cheek. So hard that my cheek stings
from the slap—much harder than I slapped her.

“There. We’re even,” she huffs before capturing my lips with hers.

For some reason, her hitting me has me wanting to be inside her. Now. Slipping my
hand under her dress while we kiss, I locate her swollen clit and massage it with
my fingers. She groans into my mouth as I stroke her. It doesn’t take long before
she’s screaming out my name and ripping more hair from my head.

“Take off your pants,” she orders breathlessly as she sits up on her knees.

Not one to argue, I fiddle with the button and zipper a minute before I jerk my jeans
and boxers to my knees. As soon as I have them down, she grabs my cock and holds it
in place so she can slide down over it.

“Shit,” I growl into her neck, nipping the flesh.

I grasp her ass with each hand and guide her at the pace I want her to ride me. She
willingly lets me control her speed. When I feel like I’m going to come soon, I find
her clit again with my thumb and press into it, creating circular patterns. Her breaths
are becoming ragged, so I nip at her neck once more and she comes hard around my cock.

Her pussy deliciously milks my dick as I spurt inside her. It feels amazing until
I realize I just fucked her sans condom. Again. This time, I sent my entire load inside
her. But when she relaxes and nuzzles my neck, I suddenly don’t care. I want to be
with this woman. I’m not leaving her. And if we just accidentally made a baby, then
fuck it. We’ll figure it out.

“Why did we even buy fucking condoms?” I ask, feigning annoyance.

She jerks her head away from my neck to look at me. When she sees me smiling, she
grins back. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.”

My phone beeps, and shocker, I suddenly have service. Two hours later, the truck has
been towed and we’ve been dropped off at the apartment complex. It’s getting into
the wee hours of the night now. With my arm over her shoulder, we walk up the dark
stairwell to the second floor. Every time we’re in the creepy-as-fuck stairwell together,
I can sense Sidney’s anxiety levels going up.

“I had a nice time,” she tells me when we get to her apartment.

“That sounds dismissive. Sidney, I’m exhausted, but there’s no way I’m leaving you
tonight. I want your naked body against mine. Every night.”

She blushes but lets me in. This time, we remember the condoms.

It was hard leaving Sidney this morning, but she needed to get to work and I wanted
to get some graphic design jobs laid out. My friends turn out to be supportive and
in actual need of my help, so it ends up being a winning situation. On the way home,
I pick up some dinner and wine. I feel like a celebration is in order.

When I open the door to the second floor, my hackles rise. I can’t pinpoint what has
my nerves on edge until I see Sidney’s apartment door left ajar. Immediately, I sense
that something is wrong. I cautiously approach the door and peek my head in. There
are no sounds and I can’t see her anywhere. Heading toward her bedroom, I catch sight
of her sprawled across the floor, seemingly passed out.

Dropping the bag of food and wine, I rush over and kneel beside her. “Sidney, are
you ok—” I start to say before something hits my head hard enough for me to see stars
and black out.

When I come to, I’m bound to what I’m assuming is a dining room chair that’s been
dragged into her bedroom. Sidney is still out of it, but this time, she’s lying on
the bed, yet still clothed thankfully. Anger flares viciously in my chest at the fact
that someone touched her against her will to move her to the bed.